


Nurture or Nature

by ishafel



Category: 30 Rock
Genre: Gen, Yuletide 2007
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 15:58:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishafel/pseuds/ishafel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Genetics isn't everything.  Yuletide 2007.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nurture or Nature

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jacqueline L. Hope](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Jacqueline+L.+Hope).



She answers the door in her pajamas, because it's Christmas and her parents aren't speaking to her and she's expecting it to be orange chicken and the delivery guy who already knows all of her worst secrets and doesn't speak English anyway.

Instead it's Jack. This shouldn't surprise her. It's always Jack. He's like a bad penny, like getting your period on your honeymoon, not that Liz would know anything about that. She wants to watch National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation and eat Chinese food and ice cream and go to bed alone because she isn't home enough to have a boyfriend or even a cat.

“Lemon,” he says, and comes reeling in. So he's drunk, too. So there's that. She should throw right back out, but he's her boss and he's drunk and it's Christmas. At least, that's what she tells herself. “My mother is driving me insane.”

“My mother hates me because I'm never going to have children,” Liz says. “Tell your mother thank you for that, by the way. I would have been perfectly happy not to have ever seen that side of any of my family.”

“Isn't it better to know the truth?” Jack demands, before he flops down on her couch with a groan. “Oh, Lemon. My mother and C.C. are the best of friends. Did you know my mother campaigned for Kennedy? They've bonded. They're driving me mad, Lemon, with their liberalness and their principles!”

“Which Kennedy?” Liz asks, even though she knows she shouldn't. “Do you want some coffee, Jack?”

“Is it Irish?” She hears him sigh, and television comes on “All of them, probably, Lemon. She claims to have named me for John Kennedy. She told me once that he was my real father. Thankfully I look exactly like a Donaghy.”

Liz is glad she's in the kitchen, checking to make sure the bottle of Bailey's in the cabinet expired in 2006 and not 2002, because when he says that she thinks of the Kennedy Jack most resembles. It isn't JFK, though. It's Teddy--but Jack was born in the 1950s, so the dates don't match up. She hopes.

“My parents are Republicans,” she yells, over the noise of the water running. All she has, drinks-wise, is red wine and half a bottle of Malibu. “ They don't believe in abortion! Is Jamaican okay?”

“Mother of God, no,” Jack says from behind her. “Give me that, Lemon. There's a man at the door with two bags of food and a carton of ice cream. Go and pay him off, and let me handle this.”

“Yeah,” Liz says. “No one mixes drinks like a Kennedy.” And she escapes back into the living room to give poor Zhang-Wei his money. He looks at her suspiciously, like he's wondering what the hell Jack and his $3000 suit are doing in her apartment, but he counts the cash she gives him and doesn't smile, just like always. “Goodbye,” she says to him. “Have a great Christmas!” and closes the door on his scowling face.

“You do have way with the lower classes,” Jack says, handing her a gigantic rum and Diet Coke.

“Mmm,” Liz says, taking a sip. “Not all of us grew up with servants, you know. Some of us had to mix our own drinks and shine our own shoes.”

“That's tragic,” Jack says, helping himself to her food. “Does Oprah know? Is there a support group?”

“Shut up,” Liz says, but she's smiling as she curls up on the couch next to him. “You've met my family. You know how I suffered.”

“I put myself through Princeton by waiting tables,” Jack says. “It wasn't always wine and roses.”

“I thought you went to Tufts,” Liz says, confused. “I thought you were a swan boat operator.”

Jack waves it off. “Those are details, Lemon,” he says. “Details are for the small-minded.”

“Right,” Liz says, and takes a sip of her drink to hide her smile.

“Besides, I don't have kids either,” Jack says. “The Donaghy name dies with me, Lemon.”

“I thought you had three brothers, or is that another small-minded detail?”

“Only two, and you've met them,” Jack says, like that should make everything immediately clear. “Eddie is gay, and I've always thought Patrick was a little off.”

“Well,” Liz says. She's going to be polite if it kills her.

“You should have my children,” Jack says suddenly, sitting up.

Liz spits rum and coke out on her pajama top. “What?” There's a manic, dangerous light in Jack's eyes. “Everyone wins,” he says. “You get a baby, the Donaghy name lives on, your mother gets a grandchild--.”

“What about your girlfriend?” Liz demands.

“Details, Lemon. Besides, C.C. is even older than you are.”

“Thank you for that.” Liz reaches for a napkin. “Jack, you're not serious about this, are you?”

“As a heart attack,” Jack says. “Besides, it would absolutely kill my mother.”

“You want me to have your baby as revenge?” Liz squeaks. “Jack--.”

“You make it sound so dirty,” he says, and leans over and kisses her. Liz is so surprised she opens her mouth, and he tastes like rum, but his mouth is gentle on hers and it takes her a moment to push him off.

“You are drunk,” she says. “Oh, you are going to be embarrassed about this in the morning, mister.”

Jack laughs and leans back. “Not as embarrassed as you,” he says, which is true and which she hates him for. “But I'll find someone else to pop out the next generation of Donaghys if you feel that way about it, Lemon. Too bad. I think our child could have been something special, don't you?” 

Liz doesn't even have to think about it. “Insane,” she says. “You are seriously unbalanced.” She looks over at him, but he's passed out, his head pillowed on the arm of her couch. It's a Wonderful Life is playing on the television, and she turns it off as quickly as she can.

After she's put the food away she digs out a blanket to drape over Jack. He looks peaceful, even if his mouth is open and he's snoring softly. It would almost be worth it, she thinks, if it meant that her kid would be a Kennedy.

Almost.


End file.
